


Spiderwebs

by cuddleefuddlee



Series: baby blue [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Time Skip, Sexual Content, background osamu/akaashi, clownstumu is back and better than ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:55:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27017668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddleefuddlee/pseuds/cuddleefuddlee
Summary: But, the universal truth is that Suna was always different. Suna always has been, and always will be, the one person Atsumu is willing to make memories with. He’s the one person that Atsumu has committed each freckle, every laugh to memory.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Suna Rintarou
Series: baby blue [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981042
Comments: 28
Kudos: 173





	Spiderwebs

**Author's Note:**

> she's back, back, back again with the atsusuna! this was my first time attempt at writing some form of smut lmao so pls go easy on me

_And now I’m stuck in the web you're spinning._

___________________________

**_From: Sunarin_ **

_meet u in the usual spot?_

**_From: Atsumu_ **

_yeah_

_be there in 15?_

**_From: Sunarin_ **

_sounds good_

**_From: Atsumu_ **

_Atsumu has liked a message!_

“Atsumu-san, are you meeting up with Suna-san after this?” 

Hinata's voice drags Atsumu away from the chat in front of him and back to the locker room. His teammates are still running off of the winning high; all of them buzzing from winning another game and continuing their streak. 

“Yeah,” Atsumu says. “We always meet up after we play each other. Ya could say it’s a tradition.”

“I thought you guys didn’t need memories.” Hinata's giggles bubble out of him as a shoulder dodges a shove from Atsumu.

In most cases, Hinata would be right. Atsumu has never really concerned himself about making memories or keeping up with friendships from the past. He can hear his teenage self nagging about how people who do are stupid and should get a better hobby. 

But, the universal truth is that Suna was always different. Suna always has been, and _always will be_ , the one person Atsumu is willing to make memories with. He’s the one person that Atsumu has committed each freckle, every laugh to memory. He’s traced over the lines in his palm so many times that he can do it in his sleep; a short but thick heart line, a thinner, longer head line, a life line broken in two due to a scar, and a curved fate line. 

Atsumu used to think palm reading was ridiculous until he learned the lines that grace Suna's hand.

“It’s nice that you two are still friends, Atsumu-san!” 

Hinata grins up at him, happiness radiating from him, and Atsumu doesn’t have the heart to correct him. He’s sure Hinata wouldn’t understand their type of friendship, not when they’ve existed within a blurry, gray area for years. Instead, he grins back at him, a hand ruffling his hair. 

A group of Jackals walk out with Atsumu like normal, Hinata and Bokuto at his sides while Sakusa walks five feet in front of them. This is fine, it’s _normal_. It’s all a part of the act Atsumu puts on whenever he meets up with Suna. 

It’s what they’ve agreed is best to do. 

But that doesn’t stop Atsumu from speeding up just enough to pass Sakusa when Suna comes into view. It doesn’t stop him from calling out to him, grin widening when their eyes meet. It doesn’t stop him from resting his forehead against the others like they have been doing since they were kids. 

Atsumu watches as his friends joke around, talk about the game, catch up since the last time they saw each other. It’s only when he feels Suna's hand brush his own does he realize just how close they’re standing. A finger wraps around and drags down his palm. 

“Go easy on him tonight, Suna!” Bokuto claps his hands on his shoulders. Atsumu freezes at the statement. “We still have practice tomorrow and we can’t have Tsum-Tsum showing up hungover!” 

“Don’t worry, _Tsum-Tsum_ should be fine.”

There’s a spark of something in Suna's eyes — something that says he has a secret, some sort of plan that only he’ll know until the moment he decides to reveal it — and a saccharine smile. Atsumu shivers.

They say their goodbyes and Atsumu watches them go. 

“Maybe I should start calling you Tsum-Tsum from now on,” Suna whispers, chin resting on Atsumu's shoulder while his hands snake around his waist. “Bokuto really came up with something cute.”

“Never call me Tsum-Tsum ever again please,” Atsumu groans. 

“Why not, _Tsum-Tsum_?”

“ _Rin_ ,” he whines. 

  
  


They follow the same motions as always: slip their masks on, walk to the station while bumping shoulders, take the first train, take the second train, take the scenic route while their fingers brush against each other, and lastly, slip off their masks once they’re in the elevator. They know better than to touch when there’s a camera staring directly at them. 

Both of them are too well aware of what could be exposed. 

As soon as the door shuts behind them, Suna is at Atsumu’s back; burying his face in his neck, breathing him in, hands tightening around his waist. Atsumu tries his best not to roll his head back onto a thin shoulder, to give in so easily to the man behind him. 

He sighs. “Do ya wanna eat dinner or not?” 

“Are you actually going to cook this time?” 

From this close, the scent of eucalyptus clouds his judgment, brings memories that make him blush to the forefront. Atsumu feels his resolve slipping with each second.

“The only reason I didn’t cook was because you were on a power trip from winning the game,” he complains even though they both know there’s no heat behind it. 

It's useless, he realizes, because Atsumu will always bend to Suna's whims. He's always been a generous lover and whatever Suna wants, Atsumu is willing to give, give, give — especially when Suna has praises falling from his lips in the form of breathy moans. 

His bedroom is hot, covered in the sweltering heat all because of Suna's ministrations. All hot hands trailing along the muscles on Atsumus thighs, pulling whines from the blond as he works him open with the other. He's taking his time, teasing each moan and whine out of the older man like they have all the time in the world. Suna devours Atsumu until he’s sobbing into the sheets beneath them, fat tears clumping on his lashes while Suna kisses them away. _Atsumu , sweet , sweet , Atsumu_ , he mutters along his jaw, catching any stray tears. 

When he finally. _finally_ , pushes in, their groans match each other; any tension and stress from the game earlier that night bleeding out of them and into the night. His movements are slow, languid thrusts that feel like syrup but send sparks up Atsumus spine. Couple that with the praise dripping from his lips and Atsumu feels himself slipping further away from the shore. 

This feels different. This feels like they're lovers instead of friends. This feels like Suna is making love to him instead of fucking to get the rest of their energy out. 

It's only when they collapse next to each other does Atsumu speak his thoughts. 

“What’s with ya today?” 

“Guess I was just pent up,” he shrugs. 

“Here I am, thinking I’m ya best friend when you really only like me for my body,” Atsumu huffs. 

___________________________

They’re fifteen the first time they hold hands and take a leap of faith. 

Atsumu decides to stay late to prove that he's worth the space he takes up on the bench. He’s tired of being stuck on their b-team, of being looked over, of not being good enough. He refuses to be treated like he’s not worth it. It's just not in his nature to do so. 

Osamu lets him stay, leaving him in the gym without so much as a second glance. _If he wants to stay here all night , let him_ , he said. Atsumu doesn't think twice about it, mind around focused on the ball in his hands. The upperclassmen send him looks, smirks hiding behind their hands as they leave the keys for him to lock up. The only one that stays behind is Suna, not that Atsumu notices. 

There's a fire that burns in Atsumus belly when it comes to volleyball. It's something that sparked long ago and has since scorched anything in its way that wasn't confined to the court. Even when his palms burn and his thighs feel like they're about to give, he reaches for another ball. 

“Hey,” Suna breaks the silence. He reaches a hand out and for a brief moment, Atsumu’s convinced he’s going to slap him. He’s surprised when fingers wrap around his wrist, lifting his hand between them. “Stop being ridiculous. If you keep at it you’re going to hurt yourself. Is that what you want?” 

He’s frozen to the spot, staring at Suna's face as if he’d disappear the moment he looks away. Suna's hand is cool, each point of contact feels like ice against his flushed skin; his single brain cell supplies the passing thought that it’s a burn in reverse. 

"No," he replies.

“Do you trust me?”

A nod. “You’re my best friend, Suna.”

He moves slowly, as if Atsumu is a scared animal that will bolt if he moves too quickly. His eyes glance up to meet Atsumus the moment before soft lips press against the back of his hand. 

It feels like he's burning. 

Suna's lips trail towards his knuckles, brushing his mouth against each knuckle in silence. Each kiss feels like a silent plea, _please protect these hands_ , _you're the only one who can_ .

"Promise me you'll protect your hands," he whispers. 

All Atsumu can do in response is nod. 

___________________________

Hiroshima is a nice city. It’s a city that he could see himself getting comfortable in if given the chance. Atsumu decides this when the sun is rising and he’s holding Suna to his chest. 

The window next to them let's just enough light in so that it bathes Suna in the soft morning light. If he didn't grow up with him, Atsumu is convinced he would think Suna was an angel, sharp angels and biting remarks included.

On any regular day Suna is beautiful, but seeing him like this makes Atsumu realize that he's breathtaking. 

He’s selfish to think that Suna wouldn’t share this with someone else, that he’s the only person in the latter's life that has seen this. He wonders if anyone else has been granted the privilege to see the way freckles dance across his cheeks when the light hits just right, the way his nose scrunches every few minutes, the way long lashes brush against the skin like waves. 

The realization that anyone could replace him and Suna's world would continue to spin hits him. It works its way through his muscles, makes them freeze for much longer than he realizes. 

He wraps his arms tighter around the other's chest. 

“If you hold me any tighter,” Suna mumbles. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“And here I thought ya liked my arms.” 

  
The passing thought that Suna's still relaxed from their session only hours before takes root in his mind, pushing any others to the back of his mind. He trails a hand down the others back, dips into the cleft between his cheeks, and smiles when he feels more than hears a sigh fan across his chest. 

Atsumu knows that burying himself in Suna won't dispel the thoughts, won't scare away any potential suitors that might try to steal him away. But that doesn't stop him from turning all of his attention on making needy little whines that sound similar to his name fall from his mouth. 

His insecurities blur the corners, it bleeds into each kiss he plants on Suna's back and each touch he lays onto his skin. He tries ignoring it in favor of drowning himself in Suna but it stays a steady undercurrent just beneath his skin.

___________________________

In his first year in a new city, Atsumu learns a lot of things the hard way. Osaka is different from home, which means that he’s stuck with doing everything for himself in his far too big apartment that he decided to rent with his signing bonus. 

Learning to be alone when his thoughts echo around his apartment and laugh at him is the hardest. They haunt him at night, making him question every decision he’s made in the last year. Was it the right choice? Was he allowed to be this selfish?

His phone blares from the nightstand, the ringtone giving away who’s calling. 

“What do ya want, Sunarin? I’m trying to sleep.” 

A tinny laugh replies. “Is that why you answered on the first ring?” 

As always, he's on display for Suna to read and laugh at. He wonders if Suna was always this good at reading him or if he was an open book for anyone to read. 

It's been like this for years and Atsumu knows it'll never change. He knows that some things are set in stone long before he set foot on this earth and he's okay with that. 

"Why'd ya call me so late?" 

"I've known you since middle school, Atsumu," Suna replies. "You're nervous the night before the first game." 

Atsumu wants to hang up, wants to say that he's wrong and that he _doesn't_ get nervous before games.

But, they'd both know it was a lie.

"So do you," he replies with instead. "Why else would ya be awake so late?"

He hears another laugh from the other line and smiles. This is comfortable, this is being home without having to leave Osaka and it's all thanks to Suna. 

A long time ago, when his mother made the two of them watch dramas with her when they stayed home from school, he heard that home can be anything. It can be a place, a person, a thing. It can be the voice on the other end of a phone that stops him from dropping off the cliff in his mind. 

At this moment, Atsumu decides that Suna is his home and prays that he can be his home as well. 

___________________________

If there’s one thing Atsumu was glad he made sure of when he was looking at new apartments, it was that his tub was big enough for two people to fit in. Was it selfish to drag Suna along when he was looking to get his opinion? Maybe, but Atsumu likes to think that he was doing a favor for both of them. 

Which is how they find themselves submerged in said tub with a purple bath bomb after a particularly long night spent relearning each other after far too many months apart. It's comfortable like this, with Atumus back resting against Suna's chest; he feels like it's the most relaxing night he's had in months. 

“Your undercut is getting long again,” Suna mumbles, fingers working their way from root to tip.

Atsumu hums and rolls his head forward. "Ya wanna buzz it for me?" 

"Sure," Suna replies. "Why not?" 

It's an exercise in trust, one that they've yet to conquer; it's one that they know blurs the line between platonic and intimate. Suna takes his silence as a yes and promptly stands in the tub, allowing Atsumu to fall backward into the water and sputter when he resurfaced. The younger man laughs and steps out of the tub, wrapping a towel around his hips.

"I'm gonna change and get a drink," he says. "Meet me in the kitchen before you're pruney."

He watches Suna walk away and pouts; he'll be damned if he spends one more second in that tub getting pruney only to prove Suna right. 

Atsumu freezes when he spots Suna in the kitchen. A wave of warmth washes over him, working its way through his muscles and making his face flush. It's not like the other is doing anything in particular, just pouring a beer into his glass. But the implication that this could be an everyday occurrence, that he would _want_ the domesticity that comes with a lover, has him opening his mouth before he can stop himself. 

“I think I love you.” 

Suna drops the glass from his hands, beer and glass shattering between them. “What?” 

“I think I love you, Rin,” Atsumu replies. “Think I have for a while.”

He’s met with silence, falling long and heavy between them. It closes in from all sides and suffocates them. Atsumu glances down at the shards and notices it’s the souvenir one Suna gave him last time they played each other on his court. Distantly, in the back of his mind, he hears that Alanis Morissette song playing. 

“I have to go.” 

“Okay.” 

It’s odd, Atsumu thinks, to actually feel his insecurities burn in his chest. For so long he was able to ignore it, to silence it on the nights he spent alone. But now he lets it take over. He lets it curl around his ribs and drag him to the floor, tears stinging his eyes. 

He knew this would happen eventually, that everything he was ignoring would crash down around him and he'd lose Suna. Maybe this was a long time coming, some sort of lesson he needs to learn before he can move on in life. He wishes it didn't hurt so much. 

He takes out his phone and calls the only person he knows that could help. 

“Tsumu, what could ya possibly—”

“Can you come over?” His voice wavers with each word.

“What’s wrong?” If Atsumu was paying attention he would notice the change in his brother's voice, how concern has replaced annoyance. “Atsumu, what happened?” 

“I fucked up, Samu. I fucked everything up.” 

Atsumu isn’t sure when his voice gives out and sobs shake through his body. The only thing he registers is Osamus voice echoing through the phone, telling him that they’ll be there soon before hanging up. The last thing he registers is Osamu and Akaashi finding him on the floor in his hallway only to carry him to bed. 

He wakes up to someone cooking in his kitchen. At first, he thinks it’s Suna, that the night before was just a nightmare and that somehow in the last few months he learned how to cook without burning anything. Then he hears whispers creeping down the hall, entering his room through the crack in door like they’re seeking him out. 

He sighs and rolls out of bed. There’s no use in delaying the inevitable. 

The door creaks when he opens it and the first thing he notices is Osamu shushing Akaashi. It makes him sigh again, a hand scrubbing over his face. He vaguely remembers calling his twin the night before, being carried to bed, Osamu telling him they’ll figure it out. 

“Well, you look like shit.” 

“Fuck you.”

“Is that any way to talk to the person cooking your breakfast?” 

Atsumu groans, sliding into one of the barstools at the counter. From what he can see Osamu has made some of their favorites, cooking on two different flames at once. The fancy coffee machine he bought is brewing what he hopes is a strong enough cup. It’s a show of solidarity being the other shoe drops.

“Wanna talk about last night?”

He drops his head to the counter in front of him and huffs. 

“Don’t pretend like ya didn’t know it was coming.” 

“I was hoping you’d let me off just this once.” 

“You’re stupider than the last time I saw you if that’s the case.” 

“You saw me last week.” 

“Exactly.” 

Atsumu rolls his head to the side to avoid any eye contact. He knows that this was coming, that he’d have to explain what happened and why they found him crying on the floor like a child. He was just hoping that he'd get to have some coffee before breaking his own heart again. 

“Rin came over.”

There's a moment of silence that follows, making the words hang heavy between them. Atsumu knows Osamu knows what that means and by extension, Akaashi knows what that means. 

He doesn't need to spare a glance up to know their faces are filled with pity. 

“Atsumu, how long have you and Suna been doing this?” 

He knows Akaashi is only asking because he wants to grasp the whole situation and for that reason alone, Atsumu isn’t annoyed at him. But he can feel the glare pointed at him from the stove. 

“They’ve been doing this shit since they were fifteen.” 

The next thing he hears is a plate dropping to the floor and breaking. He snaps his head up to see Akaashi staring at him, hands empty. 

“The two of you have been doing this for ten years?” He asks even though he knows the answer. “You’ve been settling for the bare minimum for ten years? For what?” 

“I—” Atsumu stutters. 

“Don’t give me an excuse. You can save that for Osamu because clearly he’s been enabling this.” 

“Keiji, come—”

“Oh no. I’m mad at you too.” Akaashi turns to Osamu, finger pressing into his shoulder. “You knew he was in _love_ with Suna for years and didn’t push him to say something when you knew he was settling. Look at him.”

Atsumu spares a glance at his twin, hoping to express something similar to pity instead of the small joy at having the attention off of him for the moment being. It’s only a brief escape before Akaashi turns his glare back at Atsumu.

He knows Akaashi's a good guy, deep down he knows this as a fact. But, Atsumu would rather be six feet deep right now instead of on the other end of the look he's receiving from him. 

“Why?” 

He glances at Osamu who turns back to the stove. “Why what?”

“Why even start this relationship with him?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “It’s not like we knew what we were doing, ya know? We just thought it was a normal part of our friendship and tried to be subtle about it.” 

  
“That’s bullshit,” Osamu interrupts. “The two of them wouldn’t know what subtle was if they googled it. Everyone in the school knew they were together because they were so possessive of each other.”

“Samu—”

“One time I had to hold Suna in his seat because some girl confessed to you during our break period. It was obnoxious.” A phone ringing snaps all of their attention to Osamu's back pocket. He rolls his eyes at the name. "I gotta take this. Keiji, can ya plate this?"

He heads for the balcony, answering the phone as he opens the door. "Speak of the asshole. No, ya gonna listen to me before you say anything, got it." The door shuts before the other two can hear what else he says. 

Akaashi moves around the kitchen, making sure to keep one eye on Atsumu while he turns off the oven and plates the food in the pan. 

"Atsumu," he starts. "How do you feel about Suna?"

"I love him," Atsumu answers without hesitation and that's all Akaashi needs to know before setting the plate in front of him. Who was he to judge others and the ones they fall for?

The offseason is bittersweet for Atsumu; it’s a break that only comes when the season ends. It’s something that he’s never truly enjoyed but makes the best of it knowing the Jackals ended the season on a win.

It’s a miracle that he’s able to fight off his thoughts for the first few weeks. He supposes he should thank his brother for letting him host his pity party in the furthest seat at the counter whenever he visited the restaurant, but it would only make his head grow and that's the last thing Atsumu wants to deal with right now. 

But, he can feel those thoughts creeping in. They darken the edges of memories like a vignette as if to say _don't forget, we're still here_ . 

“Hey.” 

Atsumu snaps his head up, phone and bags dropping to the floor at the voice in front of him; the precious apples he bought moments before rolling around on the floor. Suna is crouched in front of his door, looking up at him like a lost dog that finally found its owner. If he wasn't so sure he was awake, he'd think that he finally cracked and started dreaming about him again. 

No, he thinks, this is real and Suna's in front of him. 

“What are ya doing here?” 

“Are you going to let me in?” He stands from his spot in front of the door. “I didn’t take a train all the way here just to sit in the hall then go home.” 

He should say no, should pick up his apples and pretend like he doesn't even see Suna then call Osamu to make sure he isn't seeing shit. Atsumu should look anywhere but into those green eyes that know him down to his soul and tell him to leave.

But Atsumu is nothing if not a hopeless romantic so instead, he sighs and nods. He picks up his apples and unlocks the door, already resigning to the fact that he's about to get his heart broken for a second him. 

“We’re inside,” Atsumu breaks the silence. “Are you gonna tell me what you’re doing here now?” 

“You told me you loved me—”

“And you left,” Atsumu cuts him off. “There’s nothing to talk about, Suna.” 

“Can you shut up for one second and listen?” 

Something like regret flashes across Suna's face. Atsumu thinks it looks ugly on him. 

“I’m sorry,” he starts. “For leaving that night. It was a dick move.” 

Atsumus lips press into a thin line in an attempt to stop himself from interrupting. He let Suna into his apartment so the least he can do is listen to him before kicking him out. 

“It was terrifying hearing you say it," he continues. "I was scared because what if everything changed and we ended up never speaking to each other ever again. So, I left before you could say anything else."

Atsumu notices Suna's hands shaking, strong, powerful hands that can hit down a volleyball like it was nothing. Hands that have years of callouses on them from practice, that are soft when dragging along his own, that have the power to bring men to their knees.

They've always been Atsumu's favorite thing about him. 

"I haven't seen or talked to ya in three months and then ya show up out of nowhere, sitting in front of my door like you belong there." He's still staring at Suna's hands; they're clenched at his sides now but still shaking. "What do you want me to say, Rin?"

"I don't know," he replies. "I don't know, Atsumu. I just wanted to tell you."

Atsumu can see it, can see that they're standing on the knifes edge and whatever he says next will change them no matter what. His pulse kicks up a notch at the thought and he steps closer. 

"Give me your hand," Atsumu says, his own hand outstretched between them. 

"What?" 

"Just give me ya damn hand." 

It takes a moment, but Suna unclenches a fist and lays it on Atsumu's palm. He drags his eyes from the tallers face to their hands. A smile crosses his face. 

While some fingers are wrapped in tape, the rest of Suna's palm is the same as the one scorched in his memory. Each line and freckle is in the same spot it was in all those years ago when he first dedicated them to memory. Atsumu tightens his grip and brings their hands to his mouth, placing featherlight kisses to his palm. 

"I'm not forgiving ya just yet," Atsumu mumbles. "But, I need to know how you feel about me. About us." 

A pause. Atsumu can feel Suna's pulse race.

"I think I love you too."

___________________________

The end of summer leaves a bitter taste in Atsumu's mouth. Like he’s eaten something but it turned to ash on his tongue before he’s able to swallow. It makes him frown. 

Suna pokes between his brows. 

"You're gonna get wrinkles like that," he drawls. "Then you'll officially be the ugly twin." 

"Oh fuck you." 

They settle back into silence, comfortable and natural between them. Graduation was months ago and the two of them have found themselves in each other's orbit more often than not.

Fingers splay across the back of Atsumu's hand, spreading warmth even in the cooler summer night. It grounds him to the moment, makes him commit everything from the popsicle in his hand to the cicadas chirping to memory. He doesn't need memories, but he'll make an exception for this time. 

“Do you trust me?” 

“Of course. You’re my best friend.”

"You're gonna be fine in Osaka," Suna says. "Besides, you can always call me." 

Suna wraps his hand around the olders, squeezing just enough to let him know he's serious. 

Moments like these, where the moon casts everything in a soft glow over them makes Atsumu think this is just a dream. That this is all in his head and he'll wake up to find it was nothing more than a silly fantasy. There are times when he can't tell the difference and finds himself pinching the back of his hand to make sure.

Suna squeezes his hand again and Atsumu knows that this is real. 

___________________________

“Gin, if you don’t hurry up they’re gonna leave without ya,” Atsumu drawls from behind his mask. “Do ya really wanna go over to the izakaya with me and Rin?” 

Gin shoots him a look, but it’s undercut by the smile on his face. “Oi, the only reason they’re not here to see Suna is that they don’t wanna watch the two of ya making out. It’s like ya can't keep your hands off of each other.” 

“Can you blame me?” Atsumu pulls down his mask to reveal his smirk. “He’s hot.” 

“Disgusting, the both of ya,” Gin laughs. 

They’re waiting by the EJP locker room like a couple of suspicious fans that managed to get backstage. Atsumu has his hood up and a mask on to hide his face while Gin has enough EJP merch on him to look like he works there instead of just being there for the game. 

All in all, the pair of them look ridiculous and know it. They couldn’t care less. 

“You know,” Gin starts. “We’re all glad the two of you figured your shit out. Ya both deserve to be happy, you know?” 

  
The air around them turns fragile, as if Gin is sharing the secret to the world and is revealing it only to Atsumu. Neither of them has ever been soft with each other, all hard shoves and spitting insults. But this, this is different. This is Gin revealing a side of himself to Atsumu that he rarely shows and the latter is in disbelief.   
  


“Plus, it’s thanks to you that I got half of the betting pool we had going. So, all of your drinks are on me tonight.” 

Atsumu has a complaint on his tongue but it dies once he feels two arms wrap around his waist. His body relaxes against the familiar chest, any tension slowly bleeding out of him with each breath.

“I didn’t know Gin was gonna be here too,” the words tickle the shell of his ear. “Why didn’t you tell me, Tsum-Tsum?” 

  
“ _Rin_ ,” he whines. “I told ya to stop calling me that.”

"Alright, before the two of ya start getting all lovey-dovey," Gin starts. "I was told to tell ya that we're giving the two of you a half hour to fuck around and be late to dinner. And don't be surprised when we start razzing ya when you finally show up." 

"Bold of you to assume he needs that long," Suna replies. 

Atsumu buries his face in his hands while Suna cackles in his ear. It only makes his face flush even more. Distantly, he hears Gin say goodbye with a pointed comment that he doesn't mean. 

If this is what happiness is like, Atsumu is willing to be stuck in this web forever. 

**Author's Note:**

> the alternative title for this was: sometimes you're in love with your best friend who's also your fwb so you settle on what you can get just to stay next to them featuring clown atsumu and clown suna. feel free to yell at me about this on [twitter](www.twitter.com/sunasimps)


End file.
